


Delicate

by bangyababy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Based on a Taylor Swift Song, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Falling In Love, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Introspection, M/M, Misunderstandings, More like sort of enemies, Self-Doubt, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-05-28 10:23:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15046805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bangyababy/pseuds/bangyababy
Summary: My reputation's never been worse so,You must like me for me“I wasn’t aware that you liked anything about me at all,” Draco grumbled.Potter turned around and grinned. “You’re not the worst person I’ve ever met.”





	Delicate

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, thanks so much to at AgentMoppet for helping me sort through some shoddy scene work and rm-knj for the beta and for generally being awesome. Huge thanks to the mods for hosting this! I'm such a sucker for songfics, so I was really excited to do this. It came out 88x more angsty than intended, but what else is new. This was for prompt #113 which was Delicate by Taylor Swift prompted by @untilorapathy which I was so happy to do because I LOVE this song.

_This ain’t for the best_  
_My reputation’s never been worse so,_  
_You must like me for me_

Draco waited until the last possible moment to enter the classroom without being late. He’d always been one of the last students to get to class, so no one knew that he was now doing it deliberately. Draco had learned early on it was best to let everyone else settle the seating arrangement before he got there, lest he bear witness to the silent argument over who would sit next to the Death Eater. 

The only person who looked up besides the professor when Draco walked in was Potter. Potter gave him a small smile and motioned to the empty seat next to him, as if Draco could sit anywhere else. As if they hadn’t sat next to each other in every class they had for the past month. As if it weren’t always somehow Potter. 

The thing was, Draco knew that Potter was only sitting next to him so that no one else would be forced to breathe the same air as the reprobate, but it was kind of nice sitting next to him. They weren’t friends, and they didn’t exactly talk much. They just kind of moved into each other’s space. That at least was familiar to Draco.

For the most part, everyone ignored Draco. But they did it in such a way that it didn’t really seem like they were, like it wasn’t completely intentional. In the corridors people moved around him without acknowledging he was there, just shifted like they had always meant to be on that side. In the library their eyes slid over Draco’s table, a pantomime of scanning the room when they were really scouting. Draco didn’t eat in the Great Hall anymore, because he either sat obviously alone or in the middle of people and subtlety alone. He couldn’t decide which was worse. 

He couldn’t find the energy in him to be more than mildly irritated about how everyone collectively decided he wasn’t there. If their situations were reversed, he knew he’d have done the same without question, but was still upset. He was a painfully hypocritical coward. 

But there was Harry bloody Potter. If Potter and he were in the library at the same time, he’d march right over to Draco’s table and sit down like he was supposed to be there. Granger and Weasley had stared after him the first time, but now even they had come to expect it. No one ever bothered them. A few awestruck first years had tried to talk to Potter once or twice but a little glare and the flash of a Dark Mark went a long way when trying to be left alone. 

Potter had asked him about that once. One day he’d asked him point blank why he kept the Mark out. 

Draco had thought about lying. He had thought about telling Potter to fuck off. Thought about just getting up and walking away. But instead he had said, “Because I have it.” That must have satisfied Potter, because he didn’t ask about it again. 

“Alright, Malfoy?” Potter greeted in a stage whisper when Draco sat down. 

“Peachy,” Draco replied. Potter nodded before turning back to look at Flitwick who was gearing up to start class. Draco organized his space and willed himself no to look at Potter out of the corner of his eye.

Beside him, Potter bumped his shoulder with his Draco and he realized he had zoned out and Flitwick had already put several notes on the board. Draco picked up his quill and began to write, but out of the corner of his eye he could see that Potter was smiling. 

_We can’t make_  
_Any promises, now can we, babe?_  
_But you can make me a drink_

Here’s the thing: Draco wasn’t stupid. There were thing he knew for certain- you walked on the ground, and flew in the sky, store bought chocolate frogs were better than homemade, muggle pens had their merits, but quills had the aesthetic, and he and Harry Potter were not friends. 

Draco was sitting on a blanket near the lake reading a book when that particular worldview shifted. Potter walked right over to him and plopped himself down in the blanket with a far too causal “Hiya, Malfoy.” 

Draco looked around the lake. There was plenty of open spaces, and there were a few of Potter’s friends out as well. In fact, Longbottom and Lovegood were almost within earshot of them. So why was Potter here? 

“Potter,” Draco replied without looking up from his book. 

Potter laid down beside him, closing his eyes and turning his face towards the autumn sun with a sigh. Draco read his book harder, willing himself to stay focussed and not look at the way Potter seemed to melt into a pile of contentment that he was sure would keep him warm through winter. It was quiet for a long time and Draco thought Potter had fallen asleep. 

“I’m thirsty,” Potter announced. “Let’s go get a Butterbeer or something.” 

“Alright,” Draco agreed before he could stop and think about what was happening. Potter stood up and dusted himself off, with Draco following soon behind. As they walked away from the lake Draco could feel the eyes of all the other students tracking their movements. It was one thing for Harry Potter to sit next to him in class or at the library, those were spaces they had to share, but this was different. There was no plausible reason for them to be together right now unless they were more than schoolmates, unless they were friends. They couldn’t be friends. 

When Potter turned away from the castle in the direction of Hogsmeade Draco stopped. “Actually, Potter,” he began. He didn’t know how he was going to finish the sentence. He just knew that he couldn’t go with Potter to Hogsmeade for a drink, mainly because he wasn’t allowed off of school grounds without a ministry approved escort. 

Potter half turned and saw Draco hesitate. “I’m not sure Hogsmeade is a great idea.”

“You’re right Malfoy,” Harry said a bit louder than necessary, the surrounding people jerking a bit at the unexpected volume a tale-tell sign of an eavesdropping charm. “I have much better stuff in my room.” 

Draco’s skin felt flush with emotion. Dumbstruck, embarrassed, and a little relieved, he followed Potter back up to the castle. They walked in silence, but it was light and free from expectation. Potter really did lead him to the room he shared with some Hufflepuff Draco hadn’t bothered to learn the name of. 

“So, Malfoy, you a Firewhisky type of bloke? Or I’ve got some pretty solid tequila, but that’s not really a sipping drink. I’ve got vodka too, but it’s shit. Alright with some cranberry juice, though.” Potter turned around to hold up a bottle of nearly full vodka. 

Draco wanted to ask Potter why he had so much alcohol and on school grounds, to boot. He wanted to ask what tequila was. He wanted to ask why he’d decided to bring Draco up here. Why he’d sat next to him at the lake. He settled on “What is happening?”

“We’re having a drink,” Potter replied. “Well, we will be having a drink if you choose one.” 

“No, Potter, I mean why are we having a drink? Why did you come sit next to me at the lake? Why are you acting like we’re friends?” 

Potter sighed and turned back to the dresser and began pouring something. He muttered a curse under his breath and fumbled with the a bottle before he said, “You know what I like about you, Malfoy?”

“I wasn’t aware that you liked anything about me at all,” Draco grumbled. 

Potter turned around and grinned. “You’re not the worst person I’ve ever met.” He handed Draco a glass full of what looked to be watered down juice. 

Draco rolled his eyes. “A ringing endorsement knowing the company you keep.” 

Potter took a sip of his drink, coughed a bit, then answered. “What I like about you is that you don’t ask me stupid questions. It’s never, ‘Harry, how did it feel? How did you do it? What was it like? Were you scared?’” He took another tentative sip and grimace. “Then there’s the well meaning questions, they want to know how I am, how I’m holding up. And it’s like how the fuck do you think? But you don’t care about how I am, or how I did it, and you don’t pretend to.”

Draco knew Potter was being sincere, and on some level he appreciated that Harry fucking Potter was being this candid with him, but the other part of him, the bigger part of him, realised it wasn’t because he trusted Draco, it was because Draco didn’t _matter._

“Yes, well you know, Death Eater’s aren’t well-known for their compassion.” It was meant to be blithe, but it was anything but. 

“Malfoy, you fucking melodramatic twat, would you _listen?_ ” Potter was chuckling as he spoke. “I said that I don’t hate spending time with you. And I kinda get the feeling you don’t hate spending time with me.” 

Draco didn’t know what he had been expecting. He didn’t realise he had been expecting and that was the worst of it. He didn’t know he wanted until right when Potter had gave him a crumb of some long forgotten hope he had had. And he was suddenly so covetous of that little speck, that small spark that there was _something_ that he felt a self-loathing run through his veins like flood waters and drown out everything else. It was gone just as quick as it came and Draco flashed a smirk at Potter that he hoped didn’t look as forced as it felt. 

“You’re tolerable,” he conceded. 

Potter was smiling and Draco was sinking down again. 

Now, it seemed like everywhere he turned lately Potter was there, almost as if he were waiting for him or sometimes he would show up out of thin air (to be honest, Draco suspected he had perfected some sort of invisibility charm). 

He was there when Draco went flying, and sometimes they’d have a Seeker’s game, sometimes they’d just cruise. When he went to walk to grounds, Potter showed up halfway through and walked with him. When Draco did his rounds for helping to repair the castle, he was almost always paired with Potter. They talked more now, mostly about school, sometimes about books, sometimes Potter would explain the plot of a film he’d seen so poorly they’d both laugh, even though Draco didn’t know what was actually funny.

They had even talked about the war. It hadn’t given them any real satisfaction, and there was shouting, but they hadn’t come to blows and that was good enough for Draco.

_‘Cause I like you_

So they were friends. _Friends._ Everything was the same as it had been, but it was completely different and it was cliche and Draco hated and kind of loved it all at once. Potter had even coaxed him to the Great Hall for breakfast, when it was considerably less crowded and they ate together. 

But now Draco found himself seeking Potter out. When he walked into a room, he looked for Potter. He didn’t wait to enter a classroom, just went inside and sat next to Potter as if they’d done it for the past eight years. It was a little surreal. 

Even more disturbing was what he noticed about Potter. How he would fidget with his glasses when he was nervous, and bit his left thumb nail when he was concentrating. Or how when he wore his blue Puddlemere U shirt, his skin practically glowed, and how he tried to make Draco feel welcome in the common room with his other friends, which Draco both appreciated and hated. Worst of all, how tight his jeans were for some damnable reason.

“You know what I wish we could do,” Potter said one day after letting himself into Draco’s room. Draco was lucky to have drawn a single room. It was nice to room alone, but he wasn’t under any delusions about his luck. 

“Swim in the lake,” Draco replied just as Potter said, “Swim in the lake.” 

Potter gave him a withering look and threw himself on the bed, bouncing Draco up a little. There was muffled noise from his left and Draco told him to speak up. “I said that it’s not fair the lake is there and we aren’t allowed to swim in it.”

Draco snorted. “Only you would be upset about a rule meant to save you from certain death.” He turned more to face Potter. “There’s at least three creatures in that lake that would kill you without hesitation.”

“Why the fuck is this school so dangerous?” Potter groaned. “Like, seriously it’s designed to kill us.”

“If only it had worked,” Draco muttered and Potter whacked him. “Alright fine, we’ll do it. But only so you stop whining about it.”

“What?” Potter picked his head up and leaned into Draco. He could feel the excitement roiling off of him threatening to burst like a too full water balloon. 

“I’m not going to say it again.” He picked up his book and tried to appear causal. 

“Oh my God, are you serious? You’re actually willing to put yourself into mortal peril so I’ll stop annoying you?”

“A testament to how annoying you truly are,” Draco intoned. Potter hit him again, but he was grinning. Draco huffed. “Is that anyway to treat someone who's going to put their life in danger just for kicks because you’re an unrepentant adrenaline junkie?” 

Potter ignored that and said, “Let’s go tonight.”

Draco dropped his book. “Merlin, Potter! Are you serious? It’s November.”

“So? We can cast a warming charm. It’ll be refreshing,” Potter goaded. 

“When I agreed to do this, it was under the assumption that it would be in warmer weather.”

“Don’t be such a baby, Malfoy,” Potter teased. “A little cold won’t kill you.”

“That remains to be seen,” Draco replied. He thought for a moment and said, “If I agree to go tonight, what’s in it for me?” 

Potter scrunched up his nose and Draco pushed back a surge of affection. “What do you want?”

“Let me ride the Firebolt next time we fly.”

“You had that one ready to go, didn’t you?” Potter laughed over Draco’s defense of ‘It’s the only reason you win.’ “Alright, it’s a deal.” He stood up from the bed. “I’m gonna go get something to eat and then we can meet at the lake at like, eleven?”

Draco went back to his book, “Sure, let’s break as many school rules as possible at once.”

“It’s not fun otherwise,” Potter called walking out the door. 

_Yeah, I want you_

It wasn’t supposed to go beyond a simple fantasy. Something to think about in the privacy of the shower where he could wash away the evidence of his crime. But Draco’s current obsession with Potter rivaled that of his first year. He sometimes wished it were just like then, that he only wanted Potter’s attention, not his affection. 

Potter wasn’t helping a damn bit. He was constantly touching Draco. Nothing beyond a nudge, or a tug in his arm to get his attention, but still anytime they did touch, Draco couldn’t help wondering what Potter’s hands would feel like in a different context. What would it be like to have Potter run his hands through his hair or down his back? What would it be like to feel them on the button of his trousers? Would they be gentle and tentative or quick and confident? 

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts about Potter that even Potter had started to notice. They had just finished a Seekers game and were arguing about whether or not Draco had cheated when Draco almost gave himself away. 

Potter had been red-faced from flying and self-righteous indignation. Draco knew he was trying not to shout by the way he kept clenching his jaw. But that made his bottom lip jut out in a sullen expression that wouldn’t have look out of place on a seven-year-old and it was adorable. 

“What’s so funny?” Potter demanded when he caught Draco trying to hide his laughter. “You did cheat, didn’t you? You can’t even hide it.” 

“I didn’t cheat,” Draco shot back. “Stop acting like a baby.” 

Potter huffed and crossed his arms as they walked away from the pitch. “I’m not.” His lip stuck out again and Draco wanted to take it between his teeth, suckle on it to see how red and swollen it could get. He imagined it would taste like the pumpkin juice they had before they came out and maybe a little salty from sweat. The thought had him suppressing a groan, and suddenly he was thinking about why kind of noises Potter would make if he did just lean over and suck his lip into his mouth. 

“Stop fucking staring at me,” Potter growled and Draco’s attention snapped from his imagination and he remembered where he was. He was then all too aware of an embarrassing straining in his trousers. 

“I wasn’t staring,” Draco said a little too quickly. 

He had to figure out a way to hide his erection, they were getting way too close to the Quidditch locker rooms and Potter was sure to notice that his dick was hard when it was out for the world to see. Panicking, Draco could think of nothing else to do but trip.

“Jesus, Malfoy, what the fuck,” Potter half laughed when Draco hit the dirt. “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah, fine,” Draco groaned. He pretended to slip in the mud and he saw Potter stumble backward with laughter. He used his distraction to discreetly cast a localised Notice-Me-Not on his crotch. 

Draco stood up, cold, covered in mud and hard, and watched Potter laugh at him until he was crying. He should have be nothing but embarrassed, he should have mourned the loss of his dignity, but instead he could only think that if he could hear Potter laugh like that again, he’d do this every day. 

But the realisation that he would make a fool out of himself to make Potter laugh was acid in this throat. Potter didn’t want him, and he shouldn’t want Potter. It was never going to happen and the sooner he accepted that the better. He had to let this go, one way or another. 

So with a sneer that he didn’t really feel, Draco pushed Potter into the mud and stalked passed him to the Quidditch locker rooms. Potter’s answering laughter didn’t really feel like a victory. 

_Sometimes I wonder when you sleep_  
_Are you ever dreaming of me?_  
_Sometimes when I look into your eyes_  
_I pretend you're mine, all the damn time_  
_'Cause I like you_

Draco hadn’t managed to get ahold of himself. He had tried, but it wasn’t like he could avoid, Potter, seeing as he was the only person Draco ever really spoke to. It would no doubt raise suspicion amongst the already overly invested student population if they stopped talking. 

Draco could ignore it. He was good at that kind of thing. Nothing had to change between them, they could be friends. Draco wanted to be friends, he really did but he knew it wasn’t enough and fuck, if that didn’t sum up his whole damned existence? He was born greedy and he’d die that way. 

He hadn’t planned on telling Potter, but when had anything in his life gone according to plan? 

“So, I’ll be back the day after Christmas,” Potter said while shoving a crumpled shirt into his knapsack. Draco was sitting at the desk and watching him with unchecked disdain at the sloppy packing. 

“Why?” Draco asked when Potter looked at him. 

“I don’t really want to overstay my welcome with the Weasley’s. It’s their first holiday since…” he trailed off and Draco didn’t need him to finish. “Besides, I wanna get plastered for the New Year, and I can’t really do that there, so.” 

Draco snorted. “You’re not really supposed to do that here, either.” At that Potter gave him a grin that meant Draco would probably be flying naked in the middle of a snow storm. “What did you do?”

The grin faltered and Potter ran a hand through his hair, tugging slightly at the ends. “Look, don’t get bent out of shape about it, but I might have contacted the ministry and they’ve agreed to let you go off school grounds so long as I’m with you, but nothing overnight and we have to be back here by two.” 

Draco didn’t know what his face was doing, but whatever it was, it caused Potter’s expression to harden. “Jesus, Malfoy, it’s not a big deal. I just thought it might be nice, if we could-” he took of his glasses and began to rub them on his shirt and muttered, “For fucks sake.”

“Potter,” Draco said, and he knew as soon as he opened his mouth that he was about to do something incredibly stupid. “You asked the ministry if you could chaperone me?”

“Well, yeah, like I said it’s not a big deal.” Potter shrugged and crossed his arms. 

And without a doubt is wasn’t a big deal to Potter. He just wanted some company that he wouldn’t feel guilty hanging out with. How could he possibly know that Draco actually liked spending time with him? actually liked him? That it was a big deal to Draco that Potter would vouch for him. 

“It _is_ a big deal,” Draco hissed. “It is a very big fucking deal.”

“Goddamnit, Malfoy, why are you always fucking like this? I’m not doing this because I feel bad for you or pity you or whatever the fuck it is that you think. It doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

“I know that!” Draco exploded. “That’s the point you fucking insufferable wank! It’s not about me because you don’t care about me like I care about you.” Potter took a step back, eyes comically wide behind his glasses. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. See you around, Potter.” Draco spun on his heel and left. He went to his own room, and cast the strongest locking and silencing spells he knew and wondered if he could stay in there until next year.

_Is it cool that I said all that_  
_Is it too soon to do this yet?_  
_'Cause I know that it's delicate_

The only thing worse than being forced to stay on school grounds during winter break, was the fact that Potter was supposed to stay for most of it. 

He could have got to leave this fucking castle for once and Potter could have taken him to play that stupid laser tag game and to the pub, and maybe even a museum or two. And no one was going to look at them like they shouldn’t be there, like they shouldn’t be together. For once Draco was going to get to see what it felt like to stand next to Potter and not have anyone wonder _wh_ y.

But that was before Draco had ruined everything with his stupid fucking feelings. 

Draco climbed the stairs to eight year common room with a heavy sigh. There was no amount of walking that would ‘greatly improve his disposition’ as his Mother would say, but at least he had given it a try. 

It was stupid of him to believe that Potter would return his feelings. Why would he? Draco was just someone Potter hung around with to pass the time, he was essentially a shield for Potter, something to pick up when he wanted to be left alone. Draco was a weapon, not a possibility. 

He’d gone over what to say to Potter upon his return a thousand times, but nothing sounded right and he wasn’t even sure Potter was going to return. Maybe he’d spend the whole break with the Weasley’s after all. Draco wouldn’t blame him, it’d be easier than facing each other. As he opened the door to the common room, all he could think about was taking a dreamless draught and sleeping until classes started. 

So of course when he walked in, Potter was standing there. Draco almost walked out of the room, he wasn’t ready for Potter to tell him how disgusting and foolish he was, that he, Harry Potter, saviour of the wizarding world, beloved by all and generally paradigm of goodness could ever think of Draco as anything other than Death Eater scum.

But then he saw how small Potter looked standing in the middle of the empty common room, his hands flexing at his sides, and Draco knew he was desperately trying not to fidget with his glasses, something they both knew he did when he was nervous. So Draco closed the door, and moved waiting for any sign he’d read this wrong. 

It didn’t come and they didn’t speak. Potter took a measured step forward, hand coming up and Draco thought he might be struck.Then Potter’s fingers were running down his cheek, stiff at first but then melding against his skin and Draco might as well have been hit for the way his breath punched out of him. 

“What are you doing?” Draco hadn’t meant to whisper. Potter didn’t answer him, instead he came even closer, the tips of his fingers gently pulling Draco’s face towards his. He paused, just far enough away from Draco that their breaths mixed and Draco could feel the heat from his lips. Potter glanced up and Draco saw a fear he was sure was just a reflection of his own. 

Draco closed the distance between them, and the kiss was so soft, it was hardly a kiss at all. But then Draco was wrapping his arm around Potter’s waist, and Potter’s hand was cupping his jaw and it was deep and sweet and Draco felt the way he had when he’d eaten a whole pack of sugar quills when he was eight and he never wanted it to end. 

When they did pull away, and Draco could breathe again, Potter stayed close, resting their foreheads together. “You’re kind of extremely dramatic, did you know that?” 

Draco stifled a laugh. “And you’re not? What do you call waiting in a room to kiss someone?” 

Potter smiled. “I did do that. But only because you were dramatic first. I had to get your attention.”

“Well, it worked,” Draco replied.

“I have something to tell you,” Potter whispered. 

Draco’s breath hitched, alarm churning in his stomach as he reminded himself that, Potter was here and there was no reason for him to be worried. Still, when Draco spoke, it was in a whisper, too. “What is it?” 

Potter leaned forward again, and kissed him soft and sweet and _delicate._

**Author's Note:**

> Can I just say again, that I LOVE THIS SONG???? Because I do. You can find me on [tumblr](http://www.bangyababy.tumblr.com)


End file.
